Birds on a Wire

In the old days of exploration and colonization, so called 'naturalists' used a shotgun or a rifle to capture (kill) specimens for museum collection (and their own funding.)  At times, killing off the last bird of a species was a prize.  Extinction didn't matter.  Funding and fame did.

As I continue my hunt for Pinon Jays with a camera, I wish that these folks had put down their guns and done the same.  While I do not claim ethical superiority to these naturalists, many of whom changed our understanding of the natural world, I do wish that they had cameras instead of guns.

My desire to photograph Pinon Jays have continued to be fruitless.  To no avail, I've added Mountain Blue Birds.  I seem to be in my 'blue period'.

Still, I have captured pixels of these common (yet wonderful) birds...

Like this this broad winged hawk:

this junco:

and this pigeon:

Granted, they are 'common' birds.  In the past, Dodos, Passenger Pigeons, Carolina Parakeets and Imperial Woodpeckers were also common.

While I'm not willing to accept the birds that are gone, I am happy to have the birds that are left.

And someday, I'll bag a Pinon Jay with my Nikon.

Time Traveler 2

So my little girl has grown up, and here is a picture from her Freshman Homecoming...

I remember being in High School.  I remember not asking girls to dances because they were out of my league.

These chicks would have been out of any high school boy's league.  I can imagine high school boys wanting to ask them out but stepping back from fear of rejection.

Omegadaughter is smart.  She is beautiful.  She is funny beyond belief.

And I'm sure she's feeling disappointed because she did not have a date for Homecoming.

Forget about it Girl.

Chicks rule, Boys drool.

If you didn't have a date because you are way too totally awesome, then wait. Someday, you will meet someone else who is way too totally awesome.

Then the dance will go on forever.

Community Wise

In the past, Omegamom and I had sworn we'd never live in a gated community with an HOA.

Now we do.

But to put it in perspective, anyone who wanted to drive through our gate could, and all our roads are a dirt-gravel mix.  It isn't exactly you're stereotypical gated community.

Our community consists of retired folks, some of us who wish to be, and a few younger people who just plain like it here.  We are dominantly Republican, equaled out by a good share of people (like us) who are either Democrat, Libertarian, Independent, or of other political or non-political affiliations.  We have an email group where we come together with common information, cuss and discuss, fight like hell then come together to help our neighbors.

During a snow storm last winter, our roads and driveways were clogged, and three of us ran out of propane.  The community came together to clear the drifts and driveways.  The community came together to find a propane company willing to brave our icy avenue.  The community was... well... a community.

Currently, we are facing a fall fire season.  This is unusual for us.  Normally, our wildfires come in the spring.  We live in one of the highest wildfire danger areas in the Southwest.

Still, we live in a Fire Wise Community.

We clear brush...

We have a 'fire truck'...

In addition to our email and phone rings, we have a community information system...

We have our version of hydrants...

And, if worse should come to worse, we have an escape route...

These things may not seem like much to people on the outside, but people on the outside would not see the most important thing we have... we have a community. We have people... people that are willing to work past our differences when life matters.

Given our current national and global political differences, I wish that the rest of the world could see that sometimes, the old cliche is true...

It takes a village.

Time Traveller

Tomorrow night, this little girl goes to her Freshman Homecoming Dance:

Tomorrow night, this big girl goes to her Freshman Homecoming Dance:
 

    

I feel like I took the first picture seconds ago, though it has been many years.

I took the second picture last weekend.

Time is weird.  Time is twisted and funky and odd.  How did my beautiful little girl turn into my beautiful big girl?

A Girl and Her Dog

All of my photos are in boxes, neither the boxes nor their contents are in any way organized.  Still, as I go through boxes for my scanning project, I come up with strings of jewels...

These photos are from 2002, about the same time that Omegadaughter entered our lives.

Originally, I had thought of Omegadog as being my dog.  Omegamom was a cat person; I was a dog (and pig and chicken and horse and frog and turtle) person.  I had underestimated both my wife and our dog.

I didn't realize the connection between Omegamom and Omegadog until we lost him. He wasn't my dog. He was her dog, and in a lesser sense my dog.  When we had to have him put down, it broke my heart on many levels.

I miss him, I love her, and I still have boxes of memories to scan through.

Sunglasses

When I am driving around our mountainside subdivision, I am confronted with a conundrum.

Pinon Jays.

Pinon Jays are smart, blue, beautiful birds.  Emphasis on the "smart".

I've never lived somewhere where Pinon Jays are common.  Here, there are at least two pairs.

They flirt with me when I am camera-less.  They pose on power lines, preen on green branches, and play in front of blooming wildflowers.

However, when I have camera in hand, they flip me the proverbial middle feather and say "No photos today, Sucker."

So I've taken to hunting them with my Nikon.  To date, I have yet to bag a bird.

I did, however, get this pic of Omegamom and Omegadotter, which makes the whole effort worthwhile.

Tomato Sandwiches

Sorry folks, no on-line photos, and my trip is restricted to food memories and the fifteen steps between my kitchen and my potted tomatoes on the porch.

Food favorites can skip a generation or two... this one has.  I don't remember anyone of my father's generation eating tomato sandwiches.  I do remember that occasionally my paternal grandmother had one, my maternal grandmother less so, and my maternal step-grandfather gobbling them with a sense of joy.

In my teens and twenties, I could not imagine why anyone would eat such a thing.

Now that I'm in my fifties, I do. 

I sit with a half eaten tomato sandwich.... (Sorry, three-quarters eaten.  I had to take a short break.  Gawd these are good!)

Recipe:

• Bread (I used sourdough, though I know my grandparents used store bought white, which was trendy then.)
• Mayo (No I didn't make my own.  I used the same brand that my grandparents had used.  Home-made mayo is sublime... but in this case it didn't capture the memory.)
• Sliced tomatoes.  I grew my own just like my grandparents did.  (If you don't get the humor in that last statement, then you're probably a Republican.  If you're political affiliations are otherwise and you don't understand, then you've never had a tomato three minutes off the vine.)
• Make a sandwich.  (Again, if you cannot do this, you are probably a Republican.)

I would offer a pic of my sandwich... but... well..  now it's gone.

As I said in the beginning, this post is not so much about pictures as it is about trips.  Our memories are seldom linked to words and sentences.  Most likely, they are linked to pictures. No one's ever said that a word is worth a million pictures. While this may be so, it's harder to fathom.  

As time allows, I have been scanning my way through boxes of old photos.  With each, the words and stories and trips pour like rain.